


Answering Beliefs

by nobloodneeded



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28816893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobloodneeded/pseuds/nobloodneeded
Summary: Set during Act II's Questioning Beliefs quest, Hawke summons the courage to move forward with his relationship with Anders. Illuminating what happens when the screen fades to black.Fenris, Aveline, and Hawke/Isabela mentions.
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	Answering Beliefs

Darktown was abnormally quiet. True, the denizens of Kirkwall’s hardened underground milled about per usual, but Hawke managed to make his way through without tripping on thugs and cutpurses. He was relieved for it, too, for this trip he intentionally travelled alone. A certain resident hounded his thoughts as of late and it was high time to pay him a visit.

Earlier, Hawke had asked Varric over with a _purely_ hypothetical situation: say, oh, I don’t know, a friend happened to fancy another friend. How could that friend ascertain the feelings of the other without irrevocably changing the dynamic between them or was it better to hope in ignorance than know definitively if the alternative was worse?

Upon Varric’s exuberant insistence that he simply settle the matter once and for all, Hawke felt confident enough to go for it. He was certain the author’s push was more for fresh writing material than friendly advice - regardless of how this exchange ended - but it did not fall on unwanted ears.

Hawke could walk the trail to the clinic with his eyes closed after all these years. Sometimes, he was forced to as blood would pour over his eyes from gashes on the head. As Hawke rounded more familiar corners, each step began to feel heavier. His ego deflating, it seemed as though his bravado caught a sudden leak. When the stairs came into sight, he almost hoped a ragtag group of Coterie thugs would leap from the shadows and distract him. It would have been a more ideal icebreaker than he could currently come up with.

So far, he had, “Hello, Anders, I noticed you looking particularly fit these days. Must be all that running you’ve been doing around my mind.” That was much, even for his standards.

Typically, Hawke’s wit was as sharp as the twin daggers at his back, dual-wielding charm and cutting remarks with ease. With Anders, he had become increasingly tongue-tied - and not in as pleasant of a way as he found himself wanting.

Steeling himself, he took his next step…and pivoted on his heel, walking briskly back the way he’d come.

 _Pull yourself together, man!_ Hawke bemoaned to himself. _You’ve overcome scarier things – Hurlocks, Raiders, Mabari bathtimes! This is only Anders. He’s not nearly as scary. Well, so long as he isn’t glowing._

Hawke shook his thoughts loose and turned back towards the clinic. He rolled his shoulders and marched on. Coming up the stairs, he noticed a robed-and-feathered figure bent over, preoccupied with an unusual task. Hawke gave his companion a once-over, cocking his head to appreciate the unexpected view. His mouth opened to form around a lewd quip – something to the effect of knowing a better reason to bend over - and bit his lip against Isabela’s influence.

He settled for an inquisitive, “What are you doing?”

Golden brows shot up to a matching hairline. Anders regained himself quickly. He mastered hiding his feelings from his friend over the past three years – a necessity that ached to his core. It was a bittersweet tragedy to be so close to a man such as Hawke. There had never been anyone he craved so desperately to be with. Yet, there had never been anyone he feared being his tainted self with more. His life was a burden he would not wish on an enemy, let alone…a friend. His thoughts secure behind an unaffected facade, Anders turned to face his welcome guest.

“Putting out milk,” he said. “I miss having a cat around, but I think the refugees have scared them all off.”

Hawke’s eyes pinched slightly as he gave a sympathetic half-smile. The same thought occurred to Anders then, too.

“Or maybe eaten them,” he finished with a small frown, his nose crinkled in distaste.

Hawke breathed a short laugh through the nose. He never saw the appeal of cats to the extent of his friend, and though life was hard and reality unfortunate, he hoped the cause for the cat deficit was not such for Anders’ sake.

“Perhaps you should try your hand at catcalling,” Hawke’s lips curled mischievously, a single brow raised. “Though _you_ may reel in more than just felines.”

Anders responded with an appraising look; curious, but quiet.

 _Maker’s balls_ , Hawke internally cursed. The most frustrating aspect of things-not-said is never knowing where the line was between him and his companion. Were they merely friends and a flirtatious jest seen as nothing more than a bit of fun like Isabela, was it perceived as more and a boundary breached like Fenris, was it ultimately desired? Hawke battled his thoughts and hoped Anders spoke next to break him out of it. His nails became incredibly fascinating as he cleared his throat to puncture the silence.

Anders, however, was similarly at war with himself. In small moments when his heart could take it, he would chance a peek at his friend. When he knew Hawke was otherwise preoccupied, his glance would linger. Often, Anders felt too vulnerable to give direct eye contact – irresponsible and unworthy, to boot. He feared what he might see there. He feared more what he might not. It was agony to feel this way about a man that was too good for him.

The torture was as sweet as a rose and as sharp as its thorns. Those moments of heartache reminded him he was not solely a vessel for Justice, he was a man with real - even mundane - feelings. The idle fancies that threaded through his subconscious pulled at his heart until it hurt, but that hurt reminded him it was even there at all.

Feeling a surge of bravery, Anders’ eyes rose and were met with a solid, unwavering gaze back. Everything about Hawke was solid; resolute and convicted. Anders wilted a bit at the face he saw before him, receiving more than he anticipated with that potent stare. Hawke’s handsome features had begun weathering the stone keep he built around his heart. Anders had become something more than himself when he took Justice into him. It irrevocably changed him. He could barely stomach the burden of his duality, why should anyone else voluntarily submit to it? He would not dare to dream of such a person and Justice crushed those feeble desires when they sparked, anyway. 

It was rare for Anders to be allowed reprieve from Justice’s call for vengeance. So much of the past few years had been spent as an occupant in his own mind. Oh, but the moments with Hawke brought him back to himself. Each glance across a deck of cards, every rowdy drink at the Hanged Man, all the charitable action for the disenfranchised masses of their people here in Kirkwall wore Anders’ resolve down. Hawke made him feel wholly, independently, human – real. To be with a person who reminded him of his humanity, his own thoughts outside of a greater calling’s voice, was an intoxicant he found himself imbibing in more frequently. It made his craving for the man stronger and more frightening. Anders tempered the rising feelings, as he always did, with distractions. The healer walked further into his clinic as Hawke followed, step in step.

“I don’t suppose you’re here for a healing? What possible mess could you have gotten into now?”

“What? I can’t come see my favorite mage for a simple chat?” Hawke breathed a laugh, but his eyes quickly darted away from Anders’. “Must I always be fighting off disciples of whatever cult it is of the week or beating away Templars for an excuse to come down here?”

The comment reminded Anders. He earnestly began anew, “You know, I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

Hawke’s head cocked in question as he let him continue.

“You don’t need to stick your neck out for the mages here, but you have,” Anders found a smile touching his lips, his eyes softening around the edges. “One day, we’ll make a world where your sister can be free again.”

The thought of Bethany forced into the Circle crushed Hawke’s heart. He loved his sister dearly and for her to have been taken sent pain and rage through him like lightning. The visits they were allowed and her letters were the only salve, but to see her forced into custody made him sick. It took a great deal of restraint to refrain from openly showing his contempt for the Templar order more than ever.

He empathized with Anders’ cause, an issue of contention between certain other companions. They did not understand, they could not. They were not privy to what went on for those magically-gifted. The imprisonment, mind games, beatings – and worse by Anders’ retelling. In moments of confidence or in shouting matches against Fenris and other dissenters, Anders would speak on what the Templars in Ferelden had done to him and those he cared for. He would rage against the especially tyrannical rule of Kirkwall’s order. The beatings and confinement he spoke of sent Hawke’s blood boiling. He would squeeze his hands into fists so tight his nails would draw blood.

Bethany voluntarily submitting herself and her typically level-headed nature – surprising for a Hawke - saved her from the worst of it. So she would placate when he asked after her, anyway. If it were Anders, however, Hawke was sure they would reserve special treatment for him. With his reputation preceding him, and even more rumors spreading like ivy, they no doubt would make a grand show out of him. The thought sent ice through his veins, his nostrils flaring in mounting rage. Yet as he looked to the tired, hopeful, face of the man in front of him, his heart warmed. Hawke sighed wistfully as his face softened. 

“It would kill me to see the Templars lock you up,” he admitted sincerely.

Pain lanced through Anders as he saw that sincerity in Hawke’s face. His compassion was like fire coursing through his body. It spread from his infected mind into each limb until finally, after the years of walling himself off, it cracked through the crumbling foundation into his heart. It reached with hot fingers and squeezed life back into an organ he thought long indisposed. His face twisted slightly as he still tried to fight back the tide of emotions with what little energy he had in his reserves. Despite dreaming of the longing and warmth he saw in Hawke’s eyes over these years, Justice scolded him from the back of his mind. It was not right to drag an innocent party into their plan; it was not _just_.

“I’ve tried to hold back,” he admitted, jaw clenched in his agonizing fight between duty and desire.

Why could he not indulge? Why should he deprive himself of this chance? He had given himself to a greater calling, but did that mean his life was lost? Anders could suddenly feel the throb of Justice fighting for dominance. He acquiesced to the spirit’s demand, despite himself, and allowed a final warning to his friend.

“You saw what I almost did to that girl. You’ve seen what I am,” Justice quieted long enough for Anders continued. “But I’m still a man. Don’t expect me to resist forever.”

The statement hung in the air for a moment, a heavy weight to the words that refused to dissipate. It felt to Hawke as if the two were precariously held upon a precipice with nothing but the other’s indecision holding them at arm’s length. Could he trust Anders to catch him or was Anders hoping to be caught? If the indecision continued, it would only leave the two of them falling into an unknown - and Hawke was tired of not knowing.

With a deep inhale, ready for whatever may come, he declared with newfound confidence, “I don’t want you to resist.”

The words had barely left his mouth when he felt the crashing of Anders’ body against his. There was a surprising force in him Hawke never before had the pleasure of realizing. In battle, Anders had always cast his powerful magics from a safe distance. There had never been an opportunity to see the mage’s physical strength, but it was clearly there. A deceptively strong hand brushed the side of Hawke’s face as its fingers wrapped firmly in his wild hair. Hawke responded, grabbing handfuls of Anders where his seeking hands could find purchase. His fingers traced the arch of his spine until they met broad shoulders and the tickle of his feather pauldron. His hands kept searching until they tangled in a curtain of blond hair. Using his hold as leverage, Hawke angled Anders’ head to kiss him more deeply.

Three years of bottled emotions, three years of suppressed devotion and mitigated dreams, three years of self-repression burst like a dam as Anders poured himself all over Hawke. Searching fingers anchored themselves in thick hair and to the reality that nothing was left separating them from their desires. Anders scrambled to pull him closer, pressing into him fiercely, feeling every line of Hawke’s body meet his. His hands frantically moving to feel every inch he dared not touch before. His heart rejoiced as he felt Hawke rise and seize him as desperately. Strong hands dug deliciously into his back and worked their way up his spine. They settled in his hair, angling him even closer. For years, Anders dared not entangle himself with Hawke for fear of never being able to disentangle himself again. His fear was confirmed as he realized he never wanted to extract himself from this very dangerous feeling blossoming in his chest.

The thought was like a dip in a frozen river and stole him from their moment. He regained his composure with labored breath, drawing himself away from Hawke.

“If we could die tomorrow,” he uttered earnestly. “I didn’t want it to be without doing that.”

Between small pants, Hawke replied in kind, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

A soft solemnity cast over Anders’ sullen eyes. Anders felt the Spirit within him stir the strings of responsibility again.

“I thought with Justice…this part of me was over. I _can’t_ give you a normal life. If you’re with me, we’ll be hunted, hated. The whole world will be against us.”

It destroyed Anders to admit this, but reality was cruel and he cursed the Maker for his lot. Justice relented once more having said his piece, retreating to the back of his mind. Anders did not want to let something this precious go without a fight, though.

He rallied and added, “If your door is open tonight, I will come to you. If not, I’ll know you took my warning at last.”

Before Hawke could rebut, Anders cast his eyes downward and signaled it was the end of the discussion. Hawke understood and made for the door. Before exiting, he turned one last look back at his companion. Anders stood stiffly, head purposefully turned away from Hawke’s departure, one arm clutching the other for what little support he had. Hawke nodded to himself and went to think about all that had transpired. The grave warning he was given was indeed something to reflect on, even as his heart protested.

* * *

The din of the Hanged Man was always unrestrained and boisterous with hoots, hollers, jeers, and various shouted profanities. There were many regular patrons who frequented the establishment, but none more so than a charming pirate who could no longer call herself Captain – a tale she told fortnightly to all who would listen and louder for those who would not.

Currently, Isabela sat with amber eyes fixated on a warped piece of wood in the rafters above her, legs cavalierly thrown upon the sticky table. Before her sat an uninvited guest, who slurred through promised indignities, she knew at a glance he would not be able to deliver. She could feel the strain of rolling her eyes too hard hearing “wetter than the sea” when they fell upon a familiar silhouette coming through the door. Perking instantly, she rolled from her seat fluidly and bounced over to him.

“Ah! There you are, my beloved _husband_ , how _dearly_ I’ve missed you!” she exclaimed, throwing herself into Hawke’s quick arms.

The lout stood on wobbly legs and tottered after her. He blinked his eyes out of synch dumbly. “This your…your husband?”

Isabela gave a peck upon Hawke’s bristly cheek and curled herself into his side, a leg straddling and moving up and down his front possessively. Initially taken aback, he caught on to her act and drew a strong arm around her shoulder with a firm glance towards the drunkard.

The man clumsily sized Hawke up, his head lilting from the effort it took to keep it up in his state. He blew rank air from his lips in aggravated defeat and stumbled off to bother the next unfortunate victim. As soon as the man slunk away, Isabela removed herself gracefully from Hawke and sighed in an exaggerated fashion.

“Thanks, it was much easier that way. Any more overestimations of his abilities in the bedroom and the poor sod was bound to see where _I_ would _prick_ him. This way, no mess!” Isabela eyed him cheekily, but felt the mirth fade a bit at his cloudy expression. “You okay, Hawke? You look like you could use a pint or three.”

His laugh came out as a tired sigh. “At this rate, I’ll take what I can get. Even this rat-piss swill.”

“Any port in a storm, my friend,” she agreed and moved closer to the bar.

“You would know all about that, now, wouldn’t you?” He couldn’t help but tease her. Like a whetstone to a blade, it kept their wits sharp.

“I don’t recall any complaints when last you _docked_ in my _harbor_ ,” she threw back at him lightly over her shoulder. “Corff, your finest, please.”

“That’s a laugh.”

“Oh, come off it, you.” She palmed the drinks and found a seat at her table again, knocking her head in invitation. “Are you going to drink this or will you be owing me some copper?”

Hawke answered by accepting and throwing the pint back. He felt the lukewarm froth slosh down his throat thickly. He coughed, grimaced, then banged the table for another. Isabela eyed him over the rim of her mug. His fingers tapped a rhythmless beat and her deft fingers moved to cover his. As his eyes found hers, he relaxed his shoulders and sat straighter.

“Come now, tell me what the matter is,” she encouraged lightly.

“I met with Anders today,” Hawke started.

“Ah! And how is our paranoid little recluse? He’s missed the last few Wicked Grace games, though I thought he simply didn’t have coin left to lose.”

“Not everyone cheats so well as you, Isabela,” he chided.

“Pity to them.” She shrugged and took a sip. “So, you spoke with Anders – is he alright? Nothing’s happened to the clinic, has it?”

“Not _to_ the clinic, no.”

This caught her interest. Isabela raised a delicate brow. “ _Oh_. Has something happened _in_ the clinic?”

Hawke stiffened and took a long swig to bide his time. Isabela watched him curiously, her tongue poking at the inside of her cheek and leg bouncing in anticipation.

“If I share with you, do you promise to keep it between us – at least for the time being?” Hawke asked, leaning forward and lowering his voice.

She leaned forward as well and excitedly whispered back, “No, but do tell!”

He pulled back and sucked his teeth. “Isabela.”

Isabela righted her posture and placated him with peaceful hands. “Alright, alright. Just tell me.”

“For some time now, I’ve begun to view Anders as something more than a friend. I decided to finally confront this and it seems he may have been harboring similar feelings. It all happened rather quickly after that and we sort of threw ourselves at the other.”

He tore his eyes from the comfort of his dull yellow drink and saw a quivering pout on her lips. She brought a finger to her eye and wiped delicately with a single, shaky sniff.

“Hawke, you wound me with this information. Our love would have been one to last the ages! Varric was already penning our purest romance!”

He blanched at the unexpected reaction. “I’m sorry, Isabela. Maybe it was inappropriate to come to you – I didn’t think –”

“Bards!” she continued loudly, throwing her hands wildly in the air. “Bards had already begun lining by the tavern doors waiting to sing of the legendary life we were creating!”

Hawke rolled his eyes skyward, though a smile curled a single corner of his lips. He knew he chose the right friend to come to for this, she never failed to defuse a situation with such adept humor. “Are you quite finished?”

“No, but we are, Hawke, and I doubt I shall _ever_ recover!” She folder her arms upon the table and slumped into them with award-winning drama. Isabela popped her head up and threw him a cheeky wink.

He gave a bemused shake of the head in response.

“So, what is it we’re mulling over, then, and why have we decided to seek out the most _beautiful_ Isabela for this?” She flipped gorgeous hair over her shoulder to punctuate the beauty she spoke of so humbly. “I can only imagine the need for _my_ particular brand of expertise is unfamiliarity in the bedroom. I suppose being with another man may prove a _bit_ intimidating the first time…” 

Hawke chuckled to himself and reclined back. “There was no intimidation felt my first time with a man. Nothing but the eagerness of rough hands and panting breaths.”

Isabela gasped softly. Her eyes widened as she leaned in excitedly across the table. “Ohhh, don’t stop on my account!”

His smile broadened. “Oh? Shall I talk about my time in Lothering where I met a lovey farmhand named Ferrin who would oft need extra _help_ that I was only too happy to oblige? There was nothing like a literal roll in the hay after a hard day’s work. Or would you rather the soldiers whose hearts were riled from love of country and fear of Darkspawn at Ostagar who needed a sweet release between patrols of the Wilds? I can’t begin to tell you which was harder, the rough bark on my palms or the pounding I gave.”

Isabela wetted her lips and pulled the bottom one with her teeth gently, enticed. “Naughty, naughty, Hawke. All of a sudden, I find you _much_ more appealing. It will indeed be a travesty to lose you – the likes of which Kirkwall hasn’t seen since…well, since I arrived – hah!” She considered him for a moment, his face still clearly harbored cloudier thoughts. “So, if not a concern in the bedroom, what ails you about your situation? He’s a very attractive man, if you go for that sort of tortured, revolutionary look.”

Hawke’s mirth left him, then, as he thought it over. “He’s given me…pause to think about our predicament. Anders is a bit of a package deal, currently, and it is difficult not to heed his warnings on that,” Hawke sighed and drank the last dregs of his beverage. “Life would not be typical for us, so he says. He has a higher calling to attend to and a spirit that governs him beyond any measure I’m familiar with. I’m not sure where to fit in with that, should an attempt even be made or simply leave my door locked as he warned.”

“Well,” She drew the word out sweetly. “What do you want?”

“It goes a bit beyond that, Isabela. This wouldn’t – this shouldn’t - be some quick romp in the back-alley. His friendship means more to me than that and with that comes certain responsibilities.”

“Oh! But my friendship _doesn’t_ mean more than that, I see!”

Hawke scoffed and tossed his head back, scolding her with his eyes. “That was upon your insistence!”

She smiled cheekily. “Oh, I know. I just love to tease.”

“At my expense,” he replied sardonically.

“It’s not my fault - you make it too easy!”

Hawke let out a troubled breath and continued, “It would be a serious commitment to proceed with Anders. Do I want to tie myself to him when his words resound in my head like, ironically, the toll of a Chantry bell? What if he’s right and we’re doomed from the start, is that rightfully a risk I should take – for his sake and mine? Have we already upset the delicate balance we’ve held on to for these past three years? If so, what then? It almost makes me miss the days when my only worry was when the next smuggling job came in.”

Isabela sighed and pulled a silver piece from her sash. She held the coin between her fingers and rolled it between each knuckle with impressive dexterity, the light catching the glinting metal perfectly.

“Here’s the thing, Hawke, and I’m surprised to find myself saying it: I believe you’re thinking too much. Maker knows, nothing in life ever goes according to some _grand_ plan. You of all people should know. So. Heads you return to your estate, leave your door unlocked, and see what comes of it. Tails you keep that part of you shut for good. Call it in the air which you’d prefer and see if fate agrees.”

“Isabela, I hardly think this is practical. There is more at work here than a passing whim to be decided by a coin of all things, the whole balance of our – Heads!”

Hawke attempted to snatch the coin midair. Isabela, however, was quicker and palmed it. Her fist hovered before his face and he nearly went cross-eyed staring at it.

“Well,” he blurted. “Which was it?”

Isabela smiled, a smug little grin with mischievous eyes to match. “Doesn’t matter. You already made your choice when you called it.”

He blinked dumbly for a moment. He breathed a short laugh through his nostrils, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. Hawke leaned forward and kissed Isabela on the cheek. She ruffled his hair and smacked his ass as he walked out of the tavern. Kicking her feet up and hoisting her mug high, she congratulated herself on her cunning with a well-earned swig.

 _Go get him, sailor_ , she thought to herself with a cheeky smile.

* * *

Arriving at the Hawke estate was still a bit of a jarring experience, though it had been in his possession for some time now. While his mother had grown within this lavish housing as an Amell in Kirkwall, upon becoming a Hawke in Amaranthine their accommodations had been _enough_ \- and in Lothering it was _just_ so. The estate was comically palatial compared to his uncle’s hovel in Lowtown, however, where they had spent their first year here. It was hard to believe it had already been two years since they had moved into Hightown.

Gratefully, Bodahn was able to buttle with the best of them and the estate was always in prime condition. No doubt it was hard to contend with a Mabari hound and Sandal, but the place was always spotless. Entering his home, Hawke gave the foyer a once-over to ensure it was sufficiently clean. A roiling nervousness had entered his stomach and he knew distractions could be as good a potion as any healer’s in this situation. Especially seeing as a healer was exactly the cause for his turbulent tummy troubles.

As Hawke passed the threshold into the main room, Bodahn cried out cheerily, “Evenin’, messere! Nothing new to report and everything is in tip-top shape!”

“Thank you, Bodahn. Sandal,” Hawke nodded to the boy who blinked up at him with a large smile. “Bodahn, I _may_ be having a guest over late tonight. Be sure to leave the door unlocked before retiring for the evening.”

“My pleasure, messere! Will your guest be needing anything else?”

“No, I’ll take care of the rest, thank you.”

He bid the pair good night, gave his faithful Mabari a few good pats, stopped by the kitchen, and made his way up the stairs to redress. He did not like being in outdoor clothing in his home. The perk of a more lavish estate was indulging in a little eccentricity here and again. He slipped out of his usual adventuring gear, relieved to breathe life back into his skin after wearing armor all day, and into his finery. It was a gift from his Mother when they moved into their new home. A fine burgundy robe with the Amell crest at the back. She claimed it made her feel more at home to see her family’s sigil once again in its proper residence.

“I hear we may be having company tonight?” A voice called from the doorway.

“Think of her and she appears!” Hawke turned and walked to embrace his mother. He kissed her cheek gently. “Good evening, Mother.”

“Is it that pirate girl you’re always out on the town with? I do so miss her antics. She brings a certain life to this place, cheeky thing that she is.” His mother smiled wistfully. “Though I must say I may pay a visit to a dear friend if she is coming over. To give you two a bit of…privacy.”

“I saw her today and she sends her regards – among other colorful expressions I won’t mention. Actually, it is another friend of mine. Anders.”

“Oh? Is that the mage boy who fawns all over you like a newborn doe?”

Hawke laughed a bit incredulously. “Well, I very much doubt he would introduce himself as such, but I suppose that would be him.”

“You may look the spitting image of your father,” she said. “But you have my heart, it seems.”

“Perhaps it’s something in the water of this estate?” Hawke’s humor left as he grew a bit solemn, then. “Did you have any regrets? About Father, I mean.”

His mother looked him deeply in the eyes and spoke softly. “Not a one. The love I had for your father, apostate on the run and all, was a love I would fall into again without hesitation. Your father gave me life, love, adventure, and three _perfect_ children. I think that is the greatest blessing you could receive from a partner. If he brings you that, he is one to be cherished.”

“I…see,” he said at last.

“Well. It does seem like I will be needing to call upon that friend. Enjoy your evening.”

Hawke contemplated her words carefully as he stared into the hearth’s fire. Life, love, and adventure. Each one evoked a distinct memory. In the flickering flames, he saw moments of his time with Anders play before his mind’s eye.

Hawke remembered the life Anders brought to game nights. In between ravings against templars, he was a surprisingly exuberant addition to the party. Hawke chuckled to himself as he recalled the time one of his jokes hit Anders’ funny bone too hard and beer poured from the man’s nose as he clapped his hand around it. The liquid streamed and spurted from between the gaps making the two laugh harder.

His favorite moments, though, were the Wicked Grace bets. When Anders had no money left to lose, Isabela demanded his clothing next. Anders was horrendous at the card game and almost always down to his small-clothes by the end of the evening. Hawke enjoyed raking his eyes over Anders’ surprisingly well-built form. Most Circle mages were lithe and lanky, and though he was lean, Anders’ body was well-defined. Being an apostate-on-the-run and a Warden clearly did a body good.

He remembered the time he adventured on the Wounded Coast. The path was narrow and Anders’ foot found loose sand on the edge of the cliff. Gravity took him as the sand sifted completely away. Hawke’s quick reflexes caught Anders by the forearm and hoisted him up, his other hand steadying him by the waist as he collected himself. Fenris derisively joked that he should have let the mage fall. Varric laughed and muttered that he had to “write that one down.” As Anders brushed his robes off, his hand brushed against Hawke’s that still lingered on his hip. Their eyes met and a small, curious, smile played along Anders’ lips. Hawke laughed the moment off and marched on, but his hand still felt the warmth of the mage’s robes long after. Varric murmured, and though it was low, Hawke swore he said, “Gonna have to write all _that_ down, too.”

Hawke recalled the moment he realized his feelings ran deeper than just friendship. A surprise ambush by the Invisible Sisters on his way home earned him a deep gash against his cheek, chest, and shoulder. It could have been worse; his body could have been one of the ones littering Hightown then. Still, the pain was enough to make his vision blur at the edges. He had never been more thankful for his estate’s shortcut to Darktown than that night. Hawke trudged to the clinic and heavily leaned against the doorframe. Anders’ smile fell and panic widened his eyes as he rushed to Hawke’s side. Delicately he placed Hawke on the table and the hyperfocus of a physician stole across his features.

Hawke felt warmth ebb and flow against his skin as Anders healed him without a word. His shoulder was worked on first, the cut was the deepest there. He felt needle-like tingles at the edges of the wound as the tissue knit back together. Next, the healer cupped his hand against Hawke’s cheek who winced at the exposed nerves there. He relaxed into the soothing touch as the pain was gradually extracted from his skin. The mage smoothed his thumb over the spot, feeling for any irregularities in the tissue. Satisfied no scar would be left, he nodded to himself.

Hawke watched Anders work inches from his face and found himself studying it. His brow furrowed in concentration, confidence lighting his eyes as he applied his trade masterfully, even the bags under his eyes were charming up close. They indicated how exhaustively he worked for the benefit of others, even if at a clear detriment to himself. It was a large part of what drew Hawke to his companion and a diligence he aspired to. Admiration, however, was the not the cause of his heart pounding in his chest as he looked upon the healer.

Anders placed his palm against Hawke’s exposed chest and worked the injury there. His glowing hands moved across Hawke’s skin and elicited a soft grunt, though not of pain. Realization dawned as he found Anders’ determined eyes through the curtain of hair that had fallen around his face. Those same eyes darted from Hawke’s wound to the door and back.

“Your pulse accelerated, I thought maybe our situation here changed.”

He knew Anders spoke of their location being compromised and endangered, but as he laid his head back and felt stirred by the healer’s ministrations all he could think was, _It certainly has._

Hawke could not be sure how long he stood beside the fire, reminiscing, when he heard the soft padding of feet coming towards him. 

“You’re here.” A surprising amount of relief swept over Hawke. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”

Anders’ responded with his signature eye crease and smile. Hawke’s eyes followed the movement to his lips and his gaze lingered.

“Justice does not approve of my obsession with you,” Anders said lightly. “He believes you’re a distraction. It’s one of the few things he and I disagree.”

There were only a few steps between them. It was a safe distance. Anders did not know where exactly Hawke stood with him, even with the unlocked door. It took a great deal of strength to quash his quivering as every muscle begged to close the gap between them.

“If you hadn’t come, I’d be out looking for you,” Hawke replied.

It was not until Anders had walked through his door that he realized how true that was. He would make excuses to himself; that he was preemptively helping Aveline and her men patrol the streets of Low and Darktown. He knew, though, his eyes would look to every corner for a familiar silhouette had Anders decided against coming. 

Anders’ face fell, a shadow of skepticism across his features.

“Are you sure you want this? It’s no secret you’ve spent…time…with Isabela. Surely she’d fare as a better match than me?”

“Isabela is a dear friend, but that’s all she is. That part of our lives is over. You’re…” Hawke paused a moment. He recounted his mother’s words once more.

Anders turned his face a bit and cocked a brow questioningly.

“ _You’re_ the one I love,” he finished.

A soft smile spread across Hawke’s lips. The word reverberated through him; it felt right to say. Uncertainty vanished the moment that simple, powerful, word left him. It was obvious in hindsight and to have been so blind to it for these years was ridiculous. Years of traveling and carousing, of fighting to find their place in a world and better it, years of stolen glances and never-dare dreams all culminating in a word he could now say proudly with his chest.

Anders, though, grew a bit somber; retreating into himself. He suddenly looked so tired and wounded as the flames cast longer shadows across his handsome, haggard, face.

“When I was in the Circle, _love_ was only a game. It gave the templars too much power if there was something you couldn’t stand to lose,” he admitted quietly, hiding his face away. “It would _kill_ me to lose you.”

Hawke closed the distance Anders made bigger. He moved in three quick bounds until he was nearly chest to chest with the mage.

“This isn’t going to fix that,” he confessed with a fervent shake of the head, searching for the man’s eyes.

He could see Anders pulling away from him, thinking on the horrors of what the Order had done to him and to those he cared for. Hawke could not change what had happened, he could not fix the wrongs that still loomed over mages, but he could be there for Anders if he would only let him. Hawke suddenly worried that the mage was slipping like sand through his fingers right before his eyes and there would be nothing left to hold. A careful hand cupped his face.

“No mage I know has ever dared to fall in love,” his voice was a whisper, so close it brushed across Hawke’s cheeks. “ _This_ …is the rule I will most cherish breaking.”

Anders heard what for three years he had only dreamt of in his wildest fantasies. He never believed any person could love him, never felt worthy of such a gift. The Templars had stripped him of compassion, kindness, warmth, and love time and again. Often, it felt like a cruel cosmic joke the Maker was playing on him that a man such as Hawke had come into his life when he did. He could never be what Hawke deserved. But in those moments of respite from his self-hatred, Anders decided that if what little was left of him was enough for Hawke, he would give all of it to him. Every last drop of himself he would pour into that man’s glass and embrace the reality that for once a man loved him enough to taste. Anders reached out with delicate fingers and drew Hawke’s face to his.

The kiss was all things Anders had been denied in his life. It was tender, pure, and free. His hands grew stronger around Hawke’s face. Anders felt him lean into the kiss with every fiber of his being, his rough hands caressing his arms and drawing him nearer. Pressed together with each line molded to the other did not feel nearly close enough. Anders wanted – _needed_ \- more. It was a need that stole all thought from his mind.

Hawke pulled away and Anders felt how cold the air around him was. He drew Anders’ hand in his and guided him toward his bed. Anders allowed himself to be led, their eyes transfixed upon each other. An eagerness suddenly throbbed within him. Excitement echoed throughout his being, growing stronger. It had been so long since anyone had stoked the flames of his passion and he was ready to fall headfirst into the sensation.

With a gentle tug, Hawke pulled Anders atop him. He spread his legs to allow Anders to adjust closer against him. Hawke moaned into Anders’ mouth as he felt the pressure of his knee against him.

Blond brows pinched together in sweet agony as he took that sound into himself. Anders caressed the tousled black hair in slow strokes, committing the memory into his mind. The thick hair he wrapped his fingers into fistfuls of, the high cheekbones his thumbs moved gentle circles against, fingers trailing along neck as the muscles there moved in time with their kiss. It was better bliss than he had ever dreamed of in those nights alone at his clinic, his hand his only comfort.

There, he had only the air to hear his whispered desires. Now he let those wishes fall.

“Touch me,” Anders breathed against the shell of Hawke’s ear.

Hawke complied. He moved eager hands from the outside of Anders’ robes to underneath where the flesh burned hot. His fingers moved across a taut stomach that jumped at his calloused touch, eliciting a soft groan of pleasure. Hawke’s hands travelled until they found purchase at the small of Anders’ back. He applied pressure to the spot and felt Anders’ arousal grind against the straining of his own pants.

The motion evoked a sharp gasp from both men. Anders looked down with wild eyes, a maelstrom of emotions whirling about them. His hair fell around his face, framing it, curtaining the two in a world of their own. Enticed, Hawke brought one hand up to the nape of Anders’ neck and the other flattened its palm against the spot to push down harder. Anders’ forehead rested against Hawke’s as he cried out. 

Hawke continued to grind their bodies closer, pleasuring himself with the rolling of Anders’ hips. Anders brought his mouth to Hawke’s and pulled his bottom lip with his teeth. Hawke’s hips bucked in appreciation. Anders rested his hand against the side of Hawke’s face and angled his chin up, coaxing the man’s tongue with his. His fingers became a vice as Hawke accepted, deepening their connection.

The two sank into each other, melting at the others’ touch. Anders drank him in like a man who had spent his life in the desert, bereft of water, and Hawke a beautiful oasis. As their tongues worked against each other, he released another sound of pleasure into Hawke’s mouth. They luxuriated in each other, lust pooling into a smoldering desire.

Hawke moved his hand from the small of Anders’ back to his torso, fingers splayed across flushed skin. His lips worked enthusiastically against Anders’ as his fingers trailed lower. He felt the muscles of Anders’ stomach quiver under his touch and his breath catch as Hawke’s fingers met a soft patch of hair. Hawke broke loose of their kiss and stared into the lust-pinched eyes and knitted brow of his companion.

“Anders --” Hawke began breathlessly.

“—Yes,” he cut off in a soft voice full of need.

Hawke obliged as one corner of his lips lifted. He reached a curious hand lower. Anders’ chest rose and fell more rapidly, biting his lip in anticipation. Hawke pulled Anders free from his robes and gave a firm squeeze that sent lightning coursing through the mage better than any spell.

Anders wanted to get struck by that feeling again and again.

“F…fuck,” he mewled helplessly.

Hawke watched in fascination as a multitude of feelings washed across Anders’ face: lust, pain, longing, sadness, fear, exaltation. With each stroke, a new emotion rolled over his features, his breath coming in hot bursts. Hawke’s other hand rubbed the hard mound in his own pants. Between the friction of his palm and the feeling of Anders’ erection sliding in his grip, arousal dampened the trousers against his hand.

Anders’ hips moved of their own volition now, forcing his cock through Hawke’s grasp even further. He cried out and silenced himself by pressing his lips to Hawke’s forehead. He placed fervent kisses from temple to temple.

Hawke continued exploring his partner in slow pulls, feeling silk over steel. He rubbed his finger across the head, now slick, and used those juices to lubricate his shaft.

Anders jolted against the wet touch. He felt himself beginning to slip into a euphoria he had not felt in so long, his jaw slack with desire. With a jerk of his hips, Anders pulled himself free before it was too late and caught Hawke’s lips with his own again. His hands brushed past the soft lining of Hawke’s finery. They spread against coarse chest hair as a heart beat rapidly against his palms. Hot skin and pounding heart proved this was no fantasy locked away in a private corner of his mind. He longed to make real all the dreams he had of this moment.

Anders fingers began to move of their own desperate accord, finding a pert nipple and rolling it lightly between his thumb and forefinger then applying appropriate pressure. He tore his lips from Hawke’s and placed hot, open-mouthed kisses across every exposed bit of flesh he could find until he latched onto the tender bud. Anders’ tongue gave quick, precise flicks across Hawke’s nipple while his hand massaged the other side of his chest.

Hawke let out a raspy moan as Anders manipulated the sensitive tissue.

Anders brushed the Amell robe aside with the flat of his palms, over brawny shoulders and sturdy arms, until it lay as a blanket beneath Hawke. He peppered small kisses from Hawke’s strong jaw down his neck, chest, and stomach until he got to the line of his pants. Hawke lay prone and held his breath, popping his head up to watch with lidded eyes as Anders took his waistband in careful fingers. Anders patiently slid Hawke’s trousers to his knees, savoring each inch released. Hawke hissed softly as he felt his cock strain against the fabric and bounce free against his stomach. The cool air of the room was like ice to his throbbing member.

Anders marveled hungrily at what he had revealed. He drew his lustful eyes back up to Hawke’s who swallowed his anticipation thickly. For so many nights, Anders had dreamt of this moment in so many ways. Here was his opportunity to enact all his deepest desires. He grabbed beneath Hawke’s thigh and propped his legs up, trailing his lips, teeth, and tongue along muscular leg until they met at their desired junction. He hovered over Hawke’s arousal for a moment, pulsing in invitation. Anders locked lidded eyes with Hawke’s as he placed a searing kiss upon the shaft, parting his lips around its thick head.

Hawke’s head fell back the instant his cock was enveloped in Anders’ mouth. He enjoyed watching Anders’ journey across his body, but the moment he felt himself enter that damp, velvet heat the sensation was too much. Hawke could not control his body as it twitched achingly down Anders’ throat. He twined his hands in mussed blond hair and greedily guided Anders’ head down further.

Anders pulled and sucked as much of Hawke’s length as he could, wrapping his tongue around his meat expertly. He reveled in the vulnerable sounds coming from his partner. Anders moaned around the full feeling and taste in his mouth and the vibration made Hawke groan.

“M-Maker, Anders, that’s…” his head hit the bed again, hands grabbing fistfuls of sheets, as he grunted in pleasure.

Anders lips smiled around Hawke’s throbbing cock. A primal part of him came out in moments like these and he fed it the hungry fire it needed. He continued stoking Hawke’s inner flame, as his tongue laved his shaft, alternating coaxing pulls and quicker strokes of his tongue. Anders relaxed his throat and breathed out of his nose deeply as he felt Hawke slide deeper down his throat. Breathing in again, his eyes fluttered, inhaling the heady scent of Hawke’s arousal. Anders continued bobbing up and down his length with increasing speed, craving more and more to taste all Hawke had to offer.

Hawke felt as if he were about to burst, yet despite how incredible Anders’ mouth felt around him, he refused to be taken that easily. Hawke seized him up under the arms with formidable speed and strength, flinging him on his back atop the bed. The wind was briefly knocked out of Anders then caught in his throat as Hawke reached for a bowl on his bedside table. When he retracted his hand, his middle and index finger were moistened with an oily substance.

Anders scoffed breathily. “You had that prepared already? That’s a bit presumptuous.”

Hawke’s lips twisted into a wry, lopsided grin. He reached with his hand to grab Anders at his base who hissed in pleasure. “Is it, really?”

Hawke stood between open legs and placed one slick finger against Anders’ entrance. He moved the appendage in firm circles coaxing the muscle to relax. Hawke eyed his partner for further permission. A coy smile tugged at Hawke’s lips as Anders grunted in affirmation.

Hawke slid his finger in a knuckle at a time. Anders’ body spasmed, his hands gripping Hawke’s biceps tightly as he gasped. Hawke continued caressing him from the inside watching the expressions on Anders’ face with fascination again. He moved his hands in unison, stroking himself with one and inside Anders with the other. Hawke could not remember the last time he had been this hard. Feeling Anders flex around his finger made his cock throb in his hand. Carefully, as he felt Anders acclimate to the digit, he added a second finger.

Anders’ back arched involuntarily as Hawke’s fingers moved deeper inside him.

“Hawke, please,” he whimpered achingly. “I need…”

Hawke wetted his lips, hooking his burly arms under Anders’ knees and hoisting them up. The back of Anders’ calves rested against Hawke’s broad shoulders. Hawke settled his solid weight against Anders’ chest and placed a searing kiss against the stubble of his jawline. Anders’ chest contracted sharply as he felt the tautness of Hawke’s cock press against the softness of his thigh. It was a promise that made his chest tight and desire coil like a salacious animal in his stomach.

Hawke punctuated his words between more kisses, grinding his hips against Anders’ leg. “What…do…you…need?”

Anders felt like a quivering puddle of lust. He felt lips place a kiss soft as butterfly wings against the rapid pulse of his neck, sucking at the spot until it left a mark. He luxuriated in the sensation of Hawke running his nose against the side of his neck up the line of his cheek until he nuzzled against the shell of his ear. Anders inhaled sharply as Hawke pulled his lobe into his mouth with his teeth, nibbling the sensitive tissue, hot breath in his ear.

“You…” he admitted softly. “…more.”

Hawke grinned wolfishly. He reached for his bedside table once again and slathered his cock with oil. Grabbing his shaft firmly in his hand, he rubbed the tip against Anders’ crease. Hawke’s eyes trailed the long line of his partner’s lithe body, whose hips arched against Hawke pleadingly. Hawke looked deeply into the amber eyes before him, lust swirling dizzyingly within them. He applied pressure with a roll of his body and Anders’ responsive moan shot through Hawke’s abdomen like liquid fire.

“Is this what you want?” he asked in a low, pleasurable, growl.

Anders could only nod as he found his mouth had suddenly gone dry in anticipation.

Hawke locked eyes with him as he slowly began to enter into his heat. Anders kept his gaze steady with Hawke’s, his mouth dropping open with every new inch. It felt incredible, better than he had ever dreamt those nights alone in the clinic. His fingers could never have done justice to the reality. Anders’ brows pinched evocatively as he reveled in every inch sheathed within him.

Hawke’s head fell back against his shoulders, letting out a gravelly groan.

“Anders,” the name came from his lips like a prayer, fingers reflexively digging into the flesh of the man’s hips.

Hearing his name whispered in such reverence sent a shiver up the mage’s spine. Anders snaked a hand up Hawke’s neck and tangled his fingers in the coarse strands of hair. He pushed Hawke’s neck down until his body lowered enough to draw his lips in a languid kiss. It was a soft brush at first, gentle. Hawke moving his hips in time to the slow pulls of their lips. Anders’ let out a series of small moans, feeling the grinding of Hawke’s hips from inside, his soft gasps steaming the air around them.

Their bodies developed an urgency, their kiss transforming into something far more exploratory. Anders’ zealous tongue found its way into Hawke’s mouth; feeling his respond eagerly in kind. He swallowed Hawke’s moans as he picked up speed, sinking deeper into Anders’ warmth. Anders hands spread against Hawke’s chest, applying pressure to his nipple between thumb and finger. Hawke grunted and thrust powerfully in appreciation. Anders sobbed in ecstasy as Hawke buried his cock inside him.

The mounting pleasure was no longer enough, Hawke needed more. He moved his hands beneath Anders and angled his hips up.

Lightning shot through Anders as Hawke drove into him more deeply. His hands scrambled for purchase anywhere they could find, nails dragging along muscled sides until they gripped two firm cheeks. Anders used his new leverage to force Hawke’s hips faster, feeling his climax beginning to balloon. Wordless sounds of desperation fell from his lips as he felt each powerful stroke throb within him.

Hawke felt release screaming in his veins, sweat slick against his brow and heaving chest as his pumping found an erratic, arhythmic tempo. He seized Anders’ cock, jerking his hand in time with his hips. Anders body writhed in unyielding pleasure; his head thrown back against the burgundy sheets.

“H-Hawke, I – I –” Anders’ back helplessly arched against the bed as his jaw dropped, feeling every surge of Hawke’s cock as he climaxed.

Hawke roared Anders name in release, finishing in three forceful strokes, as he buried himself deeply in Anders’ heat. Feeling Hawke’s orgasm pulse within him propelled Anders into his own, spilling over the champion’s hand and his own chest.

For a moment the air was silent save for the small pants and strained breathing. Hawke gingerly pulled himself out with a satisfied groan and fell gracelessly beside his partner. Reaching with a heavy, uncooperative, hand to his night table he managed to palm a cloth and tenderly cleaned his companion off.

Anders breathed a laugh as the fabric lightly tickled his stomach.

“Were I not so spent and grateful, I might be offended at how much you _truly_ anticipated this evening going.”

Hawke’s shoulders rose in a knowing chuckle.

“I am nothing if not a gracious host,” he joked with pompous airs.

Hawke touched their foreheads together and kissed the bridge of Anders’ nose. He brought his head lower and brushed his lips against the other’s.

Anders’ fingers played gently against the shell of Hawke’s ear as their mouths delicately worked against each other.

With mild difficulty in his exhausted state, Hawke repositioned himself properly on the bed, encouraging Anders to do the same. Anders laid on his side, his back settled against Hawke’s broad chest. Cool sheets came up around him and he welcomed it gratefully. A brawny arm wove around Anders’ slim waist and pulled him closer, feeling the contours of their body align perfectly. Hawke nuzzled his nose against the nape of the blonde’s neck and huffed gratifyingly.

Anders reached a curious hand up behind him and curled his fingers around the wiry locks of hair. Hawke’s chest pushed against Anders’ back evenly as sleep began to take him. It overwhelmed Anders to feel a body beside his after all these years. Nights on the cot in his clinic were colder knowing the man he loved was so close, yet so far from his touch. Three years of pining and yearning had culminated in this night and even in the warm aftermath he could scarcely believe it.

He never dared dream this could happen - it was a fantasy he was barely allowed to indulge in. Anders was a man chained to a cause beyond him. Justice seldom allowed him reprieve of this. Even now, the Spirit stirred in his mind and roiled against this decision.

Anders found it hard to care as he felt Hawke exhale deeply against him, his palm against Anders’ heartbeat comfortingly. He closed his eyes, reveled in his new reality, and was lulled into a peaceful sleep he had not had in years.

* * *

Hawke woke first. He lifted himself onto an elbow and gazed down at the sleeping man. Brushing ashen hair away from Anders’ face delicately revealed a mouth opened in peaceful slumber. For years, the two flitted around the other like romantically-inept hummingbirds. A dance of stolen glances and wishful fantasies never thought to be reciprocated. Here, resting with gentle snores, was proof it was.

Carefully, Hawke removed himself from the sheets and donned his robe in the chill of his room. He knelt by the fire and struck a match to light it. Thoughts of waking the mage for a quicker fire spell entered his mind teasingly, but he let the weary man sleep. Already the bags under his eyes had taken a lighter shade with a peaceful night’s rest.

Standing, he examined the fire as he had the night before. In the flames he saw a different heat; tossed blonde hair, mouth slack from need, stubbled-face contorted in pleasure, the sloping arc of back against bed. Hawke became lost in those impressions, committing them to memory, searing the images in his mind. Mired in thought, he was unable to hear the soft rustle of fabric behind him.

The cold was what woke Anders more than the movement. He kept his eyes shut, refusing to be torn from the sweet bliss of dreams. The feeling of rough fingers caressing the side of his face gently sent a shiver through him. It was a loving gesture he had not felt since his time in the Circle, in those hidden moments with Karl. The memory ached still, but he held on to the warmth of Hawke’s touch long after it left. As Hawke dressed, Anders stayed motionless, feeling soft sheets around him and a gradual warmth again. Finally, he propped himself up on his palms and groggily opened his eyes to survey what stole his partner from him.

Anders stared at his back as the man watched the fire with an intense stare. His crossed arms broadened his silhouette, backlit by the growing flames. Anders wondered what thoughts hounded him in this pensive moment. His head melted into his shoulder as his eyes took in every inch of the champion. He exuded strength and power, but the same hands he would crush renegade templars and thugs with had embraced Anders so adoringly the night before.

An almost violent force pulled at his heart suddenly. He was not sure if his own conscious objected to the thrall of his affections, or Justice’s. He shook himself free of the thought and simply reveled in _feeling_ at all again.

Anders gingerly climbed from the bed, already missing the feeling of comfort, and dressed inconspicuously. Hawke must truly have been captured in his own mind as he did not stir at the rustling of Anders’ robes. Padding over, he saw Hawke’s head twitch in his direction at last. As Hawke turned to face his companion, words fell from Anders’ lips before he could think, but in them was all the sincerity in his heart.

“I love you,” he spoke in a voice above a whisper, amber eyes boring into Hawke’s. “I’ve been holding back from saying that.” An unanticipated solemnity stole over his features, diminishing its joyous light. “You…should have a normal life, not be tied down to a fugitive with no future.” Anders cursed Justice’s righteousness, or maybe this time was his own self-depreciation, it was harder to be certain anymore. He rallied, “But I don’t _ever_ want to leave you.”

Hawke gave Anders his full attention, their faces inches away. He saw hope and fear battle within those golden-brown eyes. He ensured Anders saw nothing but acceptance in his.

“ _Don’t_ ever leave.”

The breath Anders had held tight in his chest ballooned at those words. He found light once more as that single phrase lifted his spirits. He was an experienced man, but this was uncharted territory for him. He had loved before, and though real, it was a guarded and secreted kind of love – the only kind he could afford in the Circle. An open proclamation of desire and acceptance for all of his parts was something he had never felt before. Perhaps he was misreading, but he craved assurance, desired to see where this boundary was drawn.

“Do you mean that? Would you have me here, living with you? Would you tell the world, the knight-commander, that you love an apostate and you will stand beside him?”

The answer was finally a simple one. Hawke had fallen in love with the man; fallen in love with his virtues and shortcomings, fallen in love with his wit and snark, his sincerity and convictions, even his intensity. He fell into that love again as he stared at those eyes pinched in hopeful longing.

“Yes,” he declared, his shoulders rising proudly. “I want you right here. Until the day we die.”

Anders melted into a sigh; brows knitted evocatively, a dreamy smile curling his lips.

“For three years, I have lain awake every night, _aching_ for you,” Mirth spread across his features as he continued. “I’m still terrified I’ll wake up.”

Anders leaned forward, ducking his head to Hawke’s. Hawke reciprocated, craning his head at a receptive angle. As their lips met, the two crashed into each other with fervent demand. Hawke seized Anders’ body in his unyielding grasp. His lips ground into Anders’ almost painfully, the force rocking them. He felt his heart pound against his ribs, ardent affections swollen in his chest.

Anders in turn was suffocated by the heady feeling of a love finally requited. He threw his arms around Hawke, pulling him in tightly. Craving throbbed within him as painful as the night before. Seeking hands found the seams of the Amell robe and threw it open, fingers roving over corded muscle.

Rugged hands buried themselves in a curtain of blond hair, grabbing a fistful and jerking to expose a sharp jawline. Hawke placed hot kisses upon the spot and followed the line down to collarbone. With his hand firmly wound in Anders’ hair, he forced him backwards until back met bedpost.

Anders’ found purchase on the spiraling pole above his head, clasping his fingers securely around it. His chest heaved excitedly as Hawke sank his teeth into the flesh of his neckline.

Hawke grasped Anders’ wrists in one hand and moved his other to Anders’ hip. He pressed his body against Anders’ and rocked his hips along the man’s front. The ferocity of his actions promised a different pace than the night before. What then was the softer reveling of two bodies joined, now felt scaldingly hot as primal urges seized them.

Anders’ breath came in excited pants as passion seized him in a heady tailspin.

Hawke ground his arousal into Anders’ and continued rubbing roughly. He pressed his mouth hotly against his partner’s and bit into supple, swollen, lip.

Anders grunted in response and strained against Hawke’s hold, testing. He smiled as he felt the grip tighten.

“I want you,” Hawke spoke through gritted teeth against the side of Anders’ face. He pulled a soft lobe into his mouth and nipped at the delicate tissue with tongue and teeth. He let the ear go and continued in a seductive rasp, “I _need_ you.”

Breathlessly, Anders whimpered, “You have me.”

“No,” Hawke trailed the hand at Anders’ hip up his side and chest until it applied tantalizing pressure against his neck. “But I will.”

Hands whipped the mage’s robes open with an audible snap as the latches popped loose. Hawke spun Anders around in a flurry of motion and tore the clothes from his body, piling haphazardly on the floor. He cast his own finery aside and threw it across the room. Hawke pressed his palm against the middle of Anders’ back and forced him forward, his clothed hips driving into Anders’ backside.

Anders kept his hands anchored around the bedpost, feeling them slide down as he was bent into a better position. He gasped in delight as he felt the hardening of Hawke’s pants grind against his ass. His own cock twitched in his pants excitedly as Hawke’s hands found their hold on his chest, plucking at his nipples roughly. Anders arched his back and rolled his body against Hawke’s front, creating a delicious friction between them.

Hawke unceremoniously yanked Anders pants down his legs and fell to his knees. He spread Anders’ ass with strong hands and laved at Anders’ crease, up and down, alternating deep strokes and sharp flicks. Hawke ran his tongue along the bottom of his balls, pulling them into his mouth and releasing with a wet pop before making his way higher.

Anders mewled desperately, his whole body shaking, the muscles of his arm straining to remain upright. Hawke’s ministrations were driving him wild. He was a quivering bundle of wanton desires and needed more. He helplessly bucked against Hawke’s face in a salacious plea.

Hawke needed no other prompting. He stepped out of his trousers and reached for his nightstand, coating his cock in the oils once more. Sufficiently slathered, he tapped the head against Anders, his hands digging into the dimples of hips. In one fluid motion, he drove himself into his partner deeply.

Anders’ body clenched around the sensation of being spread so open. As he relaxed, he began to rock his hips in time with Hawke’s almost furious pounding. His shameless grunts turned to lustful pants as he rode the wave of agonizing pleasure.

Hawke slowed for a moment, bent forward so his chest settled against Anders’ back. His dark voice was low in Anders’ ear as he spoke in a devilish growl.

“You’re close, I can tell. Play with yourself,” Hawke commanded breathily, pumping his cock with a single forceful thrust. “I want to watch how you’ve ached for me these years.”

Anders heeded obediently. He moved one hand from the bedpost to his cock, hot to the touch and throbbing. His brow pinched as he moaned, head thrown back lustfully as he stimulated his arousal. Anders’ hand moved in an achingly slow rhythm in tandem with Hawke’s strokes.

Hawke buried himself in Anders completely, watching through lidded eyes as Anders’ hand met his base. When Anders stroked up, Hawke rolled his hips back until he was unsheathed. He continued this slow and sweet torment, Anders whimpering every time he pulled out and exhaling hotly as he pushed in, until the tempo changed.

Anders could feel that tightly wound coil in his stomach beginning to unfurl. His hand began to pump harder, faster. He cried out desperately as Hawke matched his movements. Anders acted in reckless abandon, thrashing his body against Hawke’s as his cock hit that tender bubble within him over and over. He was nearly there – and he was not alone.

“Anders, I’m going to –”

Anders whirled around and dropped to his knees, his cock still firmly in his hand. He continued stroking, golden eyes heavily-lidded as they stared up lustfully at Hawke’s. Anders opened his mouth wide, his tongue lolling, as hot pants steamed the air in front of him.

Hawke understood and felt desire lance through him at the image he saw genuflected before him. He grabbed his arousal in hand and jerked it with forceful pumps. He felt the dam holding his release break as he shot his load across Anders’ expectant face with a raspy groan.

Anders closed his eyes as he felt hot pulses slap against his face. With his hand he wiped the streaks from his face and sucked every drop off with a long pull on his fingers. He reveled in the intoxicating taste of Hawke, letting loose a small and satisfied, “Ah.”

Hawke sank to his knees before Anders, rough hands holding his face in such contrasting care between his palms. Time moved slowly as he brushed their lips together and parted them with his tongue. Hawke’s tongue swirled in Anders’ mouth and wrapped around his tongue. He savored the taste of himself mingled with his partner before pulling back with a contented sigh.

“You are incredible,” Hawke whispered adoringly, his breathing slowly righting itself.

“Now that I’ll be living with you, I wanted to show you all the good reasons,” Anders joked with a light-hearted smirk. “Just in case you needed a reminder from last night.”

“ _You_ are reason enough,” Hawke spoke sincerely. He cupped Anders’ face in his hands again and drank the taste of him deeply. He drew back slightly, his lips spreading into a wicked grin. “But…I am a forgetful man. You may have to remind me – every day for the rest of our lives.”

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to leave comments; I am a slut for validation and constructive criticism ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ


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